Foreboding
by Lyzenzed
Summary: Things seem to be dovetailing nicely for Elissa Cousland; Allies are gathered, her party have coalesed into a well honed unit and her revenge on Arl Howe is done. There are vows of support from various nobles for the Landsmeet. One element does give pause however...


The Warden stared pensively into the campfire, poking it with a long stick and watching the

occasional spark fly high and wink out. Elissa was heartily glad she had insisted on returning to camp before

trotting back obediently to Arl Eamon. Yes, the evidence was vital, and _YES _the beds at the Denerim estate

were delightful, but she needed time to think, to process, and no way was she going to get that with servants,

Eamon himself and oh-so-sweet bloody Anora all inquiring after this and that.

Looking round camp Leli was holding forth on yet another heart-rending tragedy from Orlais whilst Wynne

mended and Morrigan (for once!) cooked. At least it wasn't another 'Ode to shoes & pretties' - honestly! She'd

agreed that pretty shoes were nice ONCE and had let loose a torrent. You'd have thought that someone so

clever and observant would have noticed by now that a female that was at least twice as strong as an average

guardsman... well, the bulk had to go somewhere, and Elissa's physique was not going to look good presented as '

delicate'.

Shale was playing Knucklebones with Oghren. She saw it as a training exercise and he looked for any excuse to

drink and gamble. They were pretty evenly matched even so, and Shale's 'bowl over the enemies frontline with a

fistful of rock' trick was handy to say the least. Elissa just hoped they keep Oghren's stash well away from the fire this time.

Sten's task was firewood, Zevran had insisted on taking Garry out hunting: "He's the rabbit assasin, no?" and

Alistair was on patrol, quartering back and forth more silently than a man of his bulk and armour would suggest.

Alistair...

The source of her disquiet.

After their first, secret foray into Denerim, and the nasty scene at his 'sister's' house, Elissa thought she had a

'walking wounded' on her plate, especially when she herself had poured salt into said wound. ('Everyone's out for

themselves'? where had _THAT_gem come from?) How many hits and hurts could he take? But her dear, sweet

man had bounced back, to become even dearer, and, no longer held back by uncertainty or chivalry or

whatever, they had put paid to their mutual lonliness and need; a balm for one another's heart.

Throughout their travelling the bond had grown richer and deeper; knowing where the other was in a fight, easy

companionship during travelling, and the nights when neither was on watch were definitely not restful.

Yet recently a note of grimness had settled on Alistair, and Elissa was starting to worry.

It had begun upon their return to Ostegar. The filth and destruction would be enough to disquiet a Tranquil, but

Elissa hoped to quell some of Alistair's, Wynne's, and her own guilt on surviving. But finding Cailin had poured oil

on the flames of recrimination, and the hurt and fury in Alistair's eyes were terrifying. He insisted on wearing

Cailin's armour, which, whilst beautiful and terrifically well made, perhaps not the best for someone who was

already drowning in 'family issues'?

Being held back from rescuing Anora had not sit well with him, and his savagery with the guards in the entrance

to Fort Drakon was awe-inspiring. He was noticeably put out at how unnecessary his 'rescue' had been also,

especially in light of the fact that Howe was dead with no input from himself either.

Elissa shifted her seat uncomfortably, then gave in to her restlessness. She had hit on the root of the disquiet.

How many months had Alistair been feeding and encouraging Elissa's dreams of revenge? How important was it

to him personally, rather than for her sake? For herself, killing Howe had been horrible, tawdry and mean. Yes,

the hatred was still there, and the anguish over the loss of her family deep. Revenge had been achieved, and a

layer of rationality had finally descended. It felt so.. hollow and meaningless.

Alistair had been hugely

committed to Howe's destruction, ostensibly on her behalf. Yet how LITTLE he had

entertained any thoughts of finding Fergus, or restoring Highever. Combined with his sudden increase in lethality

(those Tevinters had almost NO chance) and indifference to the elves plight in their latest outing, Elissa felt

that justice was taking a backseat in her beloved's mind, and mercy might have trouble being found at all.

There was more than one problem in that, that Elissa could forsee. They needed a proper conversation with the

Warden Riorden before the Landsmeet! She hoped that justice, mercy, and yes, pragmatism could prevail, that

the love and trust they had built could weather the upcoming storm...

* * *

**Notes:** During my first playthrough of DA I was very glad of the save just outside the doors of the Landsmeet, and very hacked off that no matter what I did I couldn't get Alastair and Loghain to 'play nice together'. Loghain I could understand; some screws loose there, but why did 'my love' not trust me to make this pragmatic decision work? After mulling it over, I came up with an explanation, which led to 'Foreboding'. -L


End file.
